He didn’t reply to that. Instead, he took a purposeful step forward. “Come. We should go find her.”
Theodosia stepped lightly along the gravel path, her slippers crunching softly as she navigated through the towering hedgerows of the gardens’ maze. The moon hung low above Vauxhall Gardens, casting a silvery sheen upon the sculpted greenery and lending the night an otherworldly glow. Laughter and the distant strains of a violin floated in the air, but here, at the heart of the maze, the world had gone still.
She emerged into the center clearing, where a marble statue of Venus rose from the middle of a stone pedestal, her pale form bathed in moonlight. Theodosia paused, momentarily awestruck. Her mother had once described Vauxhall Gardens as a place of enchantment, and now she understood why. Everything—the lanterns, the music, thescent of roses blooming even at night—felt like something out of a dream.
She inhaled deeply, trying to still the flutter in her chest. It was almost too much to believe that she was finally here. For so many years, she had read of Vauxhall Gardens in the newssheets, imagining the elegance, the spectacle. Tonight, it had exceeded her every expectation.
Footsteps crunched behind her. She turned slightly, smiling to herself, expecting Lord Wilton and Olivia to appear from the hedges, no doubt ready to scold her for rushing ahead.
But the voice that spoke near her ear was neither warm nor welcome.
“Were you waiting for me, my dear?” The words rasped against her skin, sending a chill straight through her.
No.
That was not Lord Wilton.
She stiffened and turned sharply, only to find herself face to face with Mr. Pritchett.
Her heart sank, dread tightening in her chest. Taking an instinctive step back, she squared her shoulders. “What do you want?”
He dipped into a mockery of a bow. “Merely the pleasure of your company.”
“Mr. Pritchett?—”
“Adam,” he interjected smoothly.
She lifted her chin. “I would never presume to address you so informally. We are not acquainted in such a manner.”
He chuckled, a sound that sent unease crawling along her spine. “We know enough. I’ve admired you from afar for years, Miss Theodosia. Surely you must see that we would suit admirably.”
“I do not share that opinion.”
He stepped forward. “We are both practical people. Youmust admit that a marriage between us would serve us both. Our estates?—”
“I am not seeking a practical arrangement,” she asserted. “I want a marriage founded on respect. On affection.”
He scoffed. “Love? Is that truly what you believe you’ll find among theton?”
An image of Lord Wilton flickered in her mind—his dry wit, his thoughtful gaze—but she pushed it away. He had given no indication that he cared for her. “I believe I might. And even if I do not, I would rather remain alone than marry someone I do not care for.”
His expression hardened. “You would choose spinsterhood over marrying me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She glanced around the quiet maze, hoping that someone would appear. “I mean no offense?—”
“Then how did you mean it?” His voice dropped lower.
“I should return to the main gardens,” she said quickly, stepping past him.
But he moved into her path, blocking her escape. “Not until you agree to marry me.”
Her stomach twisted. “I am not going to marry you.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” he replied coolly. “But I am convinced I could make you happy.”
